


Ghosts of the Past

by JustARandomIdiot



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: cuz why not, ghost!Alex, i was rereading this and decided to post it here, it's ridiculous but whatevs, this was something stupid i wrote once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 04:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12623064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustARandomIdiot/pseuds/JustARandomIdiot
Summary: Ghost!John stayed on Earth to watch over Philip. Ghost!Philip stayed until his parents were able to make up. Ghost!Alex has no idea why he's there, but haunting Thomas Jefferson sounds like a pretty good reason in his opinion. This was bound to happen after I wrote about the first two. Originally posted on my fanfiction.net account.





	Ghosts of the Past

**Author's Note:**

> This was some sort of comedic thing I wrote around February. Also, I have completed writing the holy trinity of the dead characters of Hamilton: the father (Alex), the son (Philip), and the father's secret affair (John).
> 
> Originally posted on my fanfiction.net account Randomness Girl (terrible name, I know).

If you were to ask him, he'd tell you that being a ghost isn't all that bad. Okay, so it was a little bad, but not as bad as he thought.

 

Sure, it did hurt to see that everyone he loved became heartbroken over his death, even Burr (surprisingly), especially since they couldn't see him, but compared to the stress of government and life in general, it was pretty relaxing. Plus, he could slightly move some inanimate objects, which meant having fun messing with people.

 

Being dead gets lonely after a while, though.

 

Sighing, he walked through the walls of his house and wandered down the streets. Chills went down his spine as the people passed through him. Really, he didn't know where he was going, he was just trying to find some way to entertain himself.

 

As he exited the city, he caught a glimpse of the White House, a building built not too long ago. A thought came into his mind:  _Isn't Jefferson the president?_

 

Of course, he decided to go check it out.

 

Walking through the wall, he took a good look around him. He whistled low. "Damn," he quietly muttered. The interior of the White House was very majestic; in fact, he didn't think even the richest man alive had a home as magnificent.

 

He took himself on a tour around the place, admiring the luxuries of the place.

 

"WHO ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?" Jefferson screamed, fear and anger in his voice. Curious as to what had the President so worked up, he turned around to find Jefferson staring straight at him. The Virginian's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets.

 

"HAMILTON?" After a moment, he stepped back, shaking his head and muttering, "No, that can't be Hamilton. Thomas, you're just seeing things, because Hamilton was shot by Burr..."

 

It finally clicked in Alex's head. "You can see me?" he asked his former rival with uncertainty.

 

Jefferson practically choked on his own scream. "Oh God, it spoke!"

 

Alexander glared. "Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I'm not a person!" he exclaimed with anger.

 

"He, it, whatever!"

 

Clenching his fists, he stomped up to Jefferson. "Respect the fucking dead, you big shit!" he yelled. He swung his arm to try and hit him in the face, only to have it phase through.

 

Jefferson shuddered. "God, don't do that!" he cried. "It's like my brain was plunged into ice cold water!"

 

Alex smirked. "You mean like this?" He swung his other arm, causing the taller man to shriek again.

 

"I said don't do that!" He clutched his head in his hands as if he had the worst headache.

 

Being Hamilton, he chose not to listen to him. He swung again, enjoying Jefferson's shrieks.

 

"Thomas? Are you okay?" Vice President James Madison stepped into the room, obviously worried about his friend.

 

Poor Thomas Jefferson, it seemed Hamilton had broken him. "Jemmy," he let out in a shaky voice as he pointed to his dead rival, "this guy won't leave me alone, even after death!"

 

Madison looked to where he pointed, then back at the taller man. "Who?" he asked, clearly confused.

 

"Alexander. Fucking. Hamilton!" he hissed through gritted teeth. Alex put a hand to his mouth, snickering. Getting Jefferson to freak out was the best. It was sure difficult, with his calm demeanor, but doing the craziest things to break him was really worth it. Death really wasn't so bad.

 

Madison walked up to the President, placing a hand on his shoulder. His dark eyes were filled with concern. "Thomas, I think you need to rest; Hamilton was shot during the duel, remember?"

 

Jefferson looked towards him, then to Hamilton, then back to Madison, a strange expression on his face. It was as if he couldn't comprehend that James couldn't see Alex. "But... But I- he-"

 

Alex could no longer hold in his laughter as his soft chuckles grew louder, almost like guffawing.

 

Jefferson glared at him, pointing an accusing finger. "Just shut up!" he yelled.

 

Madison grimaced. "Like I said, I think you need to take a  _long_  rest." He gently took his hand and guided him to the bedroom of the White House. Alex followed behind them, because heck, there was no way he could miss any sort of opportunity to mess with Jefferson. Maybe it was a little mean, considering he did endorse the guy, but this would definitely make up for the years of short jokes.

 

As they stepped into the room, Madison told Jefferson, "Maybe after this, you should also take a day off."

 

Jefferson stared at him in shock. "A day off?" he cried. "As President?"

 

"Thomas, relax," he assured his friend. "I can handle it, as your Vice President. I'll just tell everyone you're sick." The way he looked to the side, it was obvious he really thought Jefferson was sick.

 

Thomas glared before sighing and giving up. "Fine..." he quietly muttered, sitting on the bed.

 

James flashed him a small smile, then left the room. For a moment after the door closed, neither Hamilton nor Jefferson moved. Jefferson wasn't even looking up, only at his hands, making the dead immigrant wonder if he knew he was there.

 

"You're still there, aren't you?" the Virginian finally spoke, not bothering to check.

 

Alexander smirked. "Aww, you know me so well," he replied.

 

Thomas sighed. "Let me guess," he deadpanned, "even if I sleep, you'll still be there."

 

Hamilton sat close to him. "And I don't plan to  _ever_  leave your side," he said, a little flirty. He leaned closer, making sure to be at a distance that bothered him.

 

The taller man glared at him, scooting away. "I hate you," he mumbled, receiving laughter from the other.

 

"This is going to be so much fun!"

 

* * *

 

**THE END**


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